The US and Florida need to reunite with agriculture. This is the way

I was born and raised in Pinellas County and graduated from Clearwater High School in 2013. There, a love for science was first entrenched. I grew up in this beautiful coastal city, but during my undergraduate years at Florida Southern College, I fell in love with the vast spaces of Florida countryside.

An early spark of curiosity led to a master’s degree in horticulture from the University of Florida. I thought in 2018 there was a need to be unwilling. The statewide, citrus growers were looking for answers as to what was going on under their trees. They needed quick, accurate data-driven results, so I launched a small diagnostic lab to provide those answers. Within eight weeks I secured a loan, ordered supplies, and set up a lab in a small borrowed space. It was a microscope supported by me and my boyfriend, now my husband. That leap wasn’t just starting a business. It revealed my purpose: to help the farmers.

For the past seven years, I have provided growers with practical data on soil and roots, and ready-to-use information to make informed decisions to promote tree health. One of the main threats I manage is Phytophthora, a soil vector that weakens roots and increases the risk of tree decline. Though not a major factor in the Florida citrus crisis, the pathogen, which is linked to Ireland’s potato hunger head, is putting pressure on an industry where production is falling 92%. That first visit, standing by the growers for answers, taught me that science is an act of service at its best.

Today I have a PhD in Plant Pathology from the University of Florida, focusing on watermelons. Florida leads the country in watermelon production, making crops essential to the state’s agricultural economy. My job helps farmers manage destructive fungal pathogens that cause post-harvest collapse. There, the fruit appears healthy in the field, but it is rotten during transport from the field to the grocery store. By identifying crop protection tools, my research contributes to effective management of plant diseases, resulting in improved harvests and increased yields. And this ensures a reliable supply of affordable, locally grown agricultural products.

This study was made possible by federal investment in agricultural science. These funds not only promote knowledge, but also provide practical tools and timely solutions to farmers facing real-world challenges. But producing results is only part of the job. Scientists also need to ensure that their work is extended beyond the lab and reaches the people it intends to serve.

As scientists, we are trained with accuracy rather than advertising, which often leads to communication gaps. We are taught to speak in technical terms. Technical words can alienate those who are useful in the lab, but whose work is intended to help. When it is the default terminology, it loses connection and influence. If inspiring the next generation and providing real value is the goal of our research, we must explain not only what we are doing, but why it is important. Clear and accessible communication can bridge the gap between science and society.

Today, many Americans are separated from agriculture, and there is the science of how we grow our food, the foods that we grow, and the systems that make them work smoothly. That disconnect makes it easier to overlook the importance of fundraising research. But when we fail to invest in science, we compromise on the future of agriculture.

I’m looking for a new model. Scientists are involved not only as researchers, but also as translators and connectors. For this to work, it requires public conversations that welcome science as a tool for progress, not partisanship or abstract things. Agricultural scientists are not corridors in ivory towers. We are rooted in the same soil as the communities we serve.

So is our collective understanding of its importance when science disappears from sight. And when we forget its value, we risk ignoring the very job and those who maintain our food and future.

So scientists have to do more than research. We have to talk.

We don’t fund science just to collect data. We fund our efforts to grow stronger farms, healthier communities and safer futures. Sharing your work clearly and openly turns knowledge into influence. And when we connect with those that science is intended to serve, we build something even stronger: trust.

Amanda McVay lives in Label with her husband Jim and their two sons, Jackson (4) and Noah (2). She is a doctoral student at the University of Florida and is the founder of the Institute of Basic Research. If you don’t study watermelon diseases or run a citrus diagnostic lab, you’ll find that she crochets, camps and chases two adventurous toddlers.